Far Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Three

Chapter 1

Aaron Walker walked slowly down the street in the area of town known to the locals as the Spacer’s Sector. It sat between the spaceport and the city proper and, understandably, numerous businesses that catered to spacers had sprung up; hotels, ship-repair facilities, outfitters, and even brothels lined the streets. On some worlds, these establishments were actually housed within the spaceport’s boundaries, but that was not the case here on this crappy little planet called Drake.

His ship, the Long Shot, had landed early this morning and unloaded their cargo of food supplies and they weren’t due to takeoff for two days. Most ship captains would hate being grounded for two days, but Aaron didn’t mind it. He liked being planetside, even if it caused some security issues for him.

Aaron was a former Colonel in the army of the Commonwealth Alliance. He had fought in the war against the Miram Union, and he’d fled after the Unionists won the war. Being a former soldier of the Commonwealth Alliance wasn’t enough to get someone in trouble, especially when the Commonwealth and the Miram Union were so far away. The reason he worried was that he was so much more than just an ex-soldier. Toward the end of the war, the Commonwealth had asked for volunteers, and then they had experimented on those volunteers, their very-own soldiers.

Aaron was one of those soldiers that had volunteered, although he hadn’t known what it was that he was signing up for, and they had experimented on him. The experiments were banned by virtually all civilized worlds and would be enough to get one of those volunteers the death sentence if the story ever got out. In affect, the experiments had made Aaron and his fellow soldiers outlaws. Aaron and the other former soldiers kept the experiments a secret—any conscientious citizen would turn them in.

The whole point of the experiments had been to make better soldiers, soldiers that could turn the tide of the war with the Miram Union. They would never know if these super soldiers could have made a difference or not; the war had ended before they had even got a chance. Since these experiments were illegal, the politicians of the Commonwealth had made a horrible decision—they sent the doctors in to kill the soldiers and destroy any evidence of the experiments. They had succeeded mostly, but Aaron’s group had escaped. The research lab had been located on a small moon, and Aaron had blown it up to make their escape possible.

Each of the soldiers had been changed in different ways. Aaron had been made a cyborg. Cyborgs weren’t new. It had been tried many times before but always with disastrous results. Cyborgs always went psychotically insane and committed horrific crimes. The very word cyborg was enough to give the average person chills.

Aaron had not been made a cyborg in the traditional way. Normally, scientists and doctors would cut on a person, connecting micro-computers to a person’s brain. Those types of procedures had yet to succeed, which is why the Commonwealth doctors tried a new procedure. The scientists had taken a basic flu virus and modified it; in essence they had reprogrammed the virus. They had made an organic computer and, then, they had injected it into Aaron’s body. The virus interacted with Aaron after a fashion. It was like having a galactic encyclopedia in his head. Sometimes, the computer simply supplied him information, other times it allowed Aaron to fight in ways that he’d never even knew existed. On several occasions, Aaron had turned control of his body over to the computer, allowing it to take actions that eventually saved his life.

It was a lot for him to bear. He was constantly afraid that he would one day go insane like all the cyborgs that had come before him. It terrified him to his core.

In addition to worrying about what he might do, Aaron also feared that he might be recognized. It was a silly fear, he knew. There were millions of colonized planets in the galaxy; most of them were remnants of the fallen Akkadian empire which had collapsed nearly eight hundred years ago. Even so, there were people that were watching for him. He’d nearly been caught four months ago on a planet called Redamor by other former-volunteers like him. They, too, had special gifts from the experiments and had nearly killed him. Now, every time he passed a person in the street, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he wondered if that stranger was secretly looking for him.

After the Redamor incident, they had come out to the Rim. The Rim was made up of the less civilized worlds along the edge of colonized space. These worlds were disorganized and lightly populated, which made them the perfect place for Aaron and his crew to work; no one in their right mind would choose to come to the edge of civilization.

The Long Shot and her crew had spent the better part of four months moving cargo between border planets. Each planet was self-governing, but they all relied on the other planets for survival. While some planets were mineral poor, they had tremendous ability as agricultural planets. Other planets might not be able to produce enough food even for their own populations, but they had factories and the technological know-how to produce the goods that these frontier planets needed. All-in-all, it was a mutually beneficial situation.

At first it had been difficult for Aaron to get cargoes. The Long Shot was unknown in this sector of space and the shippers tended to stick with the ships that they knew. Gradually they picked up cargoes and their reputation slowly grew among the shippers.

Even so, the Long Shot would never be the first freighter that these shippers thought of when moving a cargo. His ship was medium sized, perhaps even small when compared to some of the more massive cargo movers. What she lacked in cargo hold size, though, the Long Shot more than made up for in speed.

Working out on the Rim didn’t pay great, but it allowed them to keep flying, they ate well, and no one was shooting at them. Still, given that they were the newcomers, they sometimes had to wait on available cargoes, such as now. Still, Aaron didn’t mind it so much. He needed a break from moving containers of grain or farm equipment, plus he wouldn’t mind something to drink either.

Something to drink was exactly the reason Aaron was wandering down a street in the Spacer’s Section. The sun had been down for several hours and it was early winter, meaning it was cold but not yet freezing. The street had lights every twenty yards or so, but half or more seemed to be out. The large patches of darkness were the perfect place for an ambush. Aaron didn’t think he was the likely target of such a crime; he wore a large Horace Special plasma gun on his right hip. The sight of it would likely give the average criminal pause. Aaron knew how to handle the gun and it showed. There were much easier, and less dangerous, targets for the criminals to go after. Still, Aaron kept his guard up and searched the shadows as he passed. He never saw anyone, but several times he did hear movement; always the sounds indicated that the individual was moving away from him though.

The first drinking establishment that he came upon was called The Spacer’s Saloon, and had a large neon sign with the name and the image of a naked and overly-endowed woman. Light spilled out into the street from the front windows, as well as raucous laughter. It seemed a bit loud for his tastes, still Aaron stuck his head through the door.

The Spacer’s Saloon was rundown but was still doing a booming business. A human singer was placed against the far wall, but the noise from the customers was drowning her out. The place was full of men and a few women too. Scantily-clad waitresses moved hurriedly through the crowd, while other women, who could only be prostitutes, made the rounds as well.

Aaron frowned at both the noise and at how packed the place was. Then he something else that made him decide to move on; two of the saloon’s patrons were members of his crew. Eric Lewis and Thomas Slater were leaning on the bar; they each had a glass of some alcoholic concoction in one hand, while their other arm was around a gaudy-looking woman.

Eric had short, graying hair, and he had a mean look about him. He was in his mid-forties and could take care of himself. The same could also be said for his partner Thomas Slater. Thomas was a young black man in his early thirties. He was tall and muscular with long hair that hung down in dreadlocks. The two men oozed danger and the other spacers stepped lightly around them.

Sighing deeply, Aaron stepped back out into the street and continued down the road.

It was true that there had been difficulties between those two and himself, but that seemed to be pretty much in the past. They now followed his orders while on his ship and that was really all that he cared about. Still, he didn’t want to drink with them and there was little way to avoid it if they all drank at the same place.

Eric and Thomas were both former prisoners of the Miram Union. One of the first jobs they had taken after the war was for a wealthy industrialist named Charles Morgan. Morgan had them break his son, Kyle Grayson, out of a Unionist’s prison ship. They freed Kyle and about forty other prisoners. Eric and Thomas were two of those prisoners. After that job was over, the two criminals had signed on with Aaron as cargo handlers. As it turned out, Kyle Grayson had also joined them. He was a computer genius and his skills had proven useful on several occasions.

The second place that Aaron came upon looked much as the first and this time he didn’t even stick his head in the door. Besides, he already caught sight of another bar called The Captain’s Chair. The Captain’s Chair didn’t have any of the gaudy signs and, mercifully, it appeared more quiet and mellow. Intrigued, Aaron crossed the road and pushed through the double doors.

The inside of The Captain’s Chair looked exactly as Aaron had hoped. It was dark and quiet. The floor was covered in small tables, most of which were empty, and the walls were lined with booths. In the very center was the bar. It made a divider between the tables and the other half of the floor, where there were several card games being played.

Aaron liked the looks of this place, but not of the two men who stood on either side of the door. They were obviously guards and, as Aaron looked them over, they were doing the same to him. He guessed they were there to keep the riff-raff out, but as they didn’t speak to him, he guessed he’d made the cut.

He picked his way between the tables and crossed to the far wall. He sat down in an empty booth, sliding in so that he got a good view of the place. From here, he could see the front door as well as the back half of the bar.

It didn’t take long for a waitress to show up and Aaron ordered a double of scotch. It was rather pricey and the embarrassed girl had to get payment up front. Nonplussed, Aaron transferred the credits to the girl and she disappeared, returning momentarily with his drink.

He took a sip and sighed deeply. Oh, if there was a nectar of the gods it had to be scotch.

He had just started on his second scotch, when there was a brief commotion at the entrance. The two guards stopped a young man from entering.

Aaron, along with most of the other patrons, turned to watch the show.

Get out of here, one of the guards said loudly.

Yeah, echoed the second guard. Come back when you know one end of the ship from the other. He chuckled at his own joke but no one else laughed.

Aaron strained to bring the young man into focus, but it took longer than he would have expected; had to be the scotch kicking in.

The man that the guards were preventing from entering was probably in his mid-twenties. He had brown hair that came down over his ears and he was clean shaven. He was pale, but Aaron guessed it wasn’t from the confrontation, but rather that this man didn’t get outside much. He had the look of a person that hasn’t done much hard labor in his life. Hell, Aaron wouldn’t have been surprised if he regularly got his nails manicured.

Now see here! the man blurted out. I have every right to be here. How would you like for me to report you to the authorities?

It was the wrong thing to say for several reasons. First and foremost the local authorities didn’t much care who the bar let in or not. Secondly it seemed his words offended the two guards.

The guard on the left shoved his hard and the man stumbled back through the doors; both guards hurried out after him.

The thought of going to the man’s rescue briefly occurred to Aaron, but he only chuckled and shoved the thought away. He had plenty of his own problems without sticking his nose into other people’s messes. He finished the rest of his scotch and waved his empty glass at his waitress for a refill.

Several hours later, Aaron stumbled back to landing bay forty-two. It wasn’t until he’d gotten up from his table that he realized just how much of the scotch he’d had; his coordination was much better sitting down than it was while he was standing.

Nevertheless, he made it back to the ship without incident. Even when Aaron was drunk, the criminals could tell he could take care of himself and there were plenty of easier targets.

It was three or four in the morning when Aaron stumbled up the gangplank. Terry Magnus and Susan Ingram waited for him at the top; both wore smiles at his intoxicated condition.

Had fun, did we? Susan asked. She was Aaron’s second-in-command and she also had been experimented on. The experiments had made her into a telepath; sometimes able to read other people’s thoughts. She was slim with long brown hair that she normally pulled back in a ponytail. Her looks were only average, but mostly that was because she didn’t try overly hard. She almost never wore makeup and the ponytail tended to maximize any facial flaws.

Aaron stopped at the top of the ramp and leaned against the bulkhead. He grinned stupidly at the two crewmembers. He truly liked them both.

Terry Magnus was another of the prisoners they had freed from the prison ship. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. His jaw jutted forward giving him an imposing look. His hair was blond and curly and it reached down to his shoulders. He was their ship’s engineer, and a damn good one too.

Aaron’s grin grew even bigger. I do love the scotch, he said and then burped loudly.

Terry laughed, while Susan just shook her head.

Now, Aaron said slowly, trying hard not to slur his words, I’m going to go sleep for the ten hours or so.

Oh, no your not, Terry replied, still grinning broadly.

The smile slipped from Aaron’s face and it took him a moment to get their faces to focus again. Oh, and why not?

Because, Susan said sweetly, your presence has been requested in the offices of Milliners Shipping, tomorrow at nine, local time.

Milliners Shipping was the company that held their contract for their next cargo; a load of farming machinery that was headed to some little pissant world.

What? Why? Aaron demanded. His mind was already trying to count the hours until he needed to be there. It took him several tries, but he finally realized that it was something like five or six hours, and that didn’t take into account him having to get ready in the morning, breakfast, etc.

Susan shook her head. They didn’t say, but they did add you’d better be there sharp.

Aaron sighed, wanting all the world to tell Milliners to get lost, but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t much, but the cargo they were transporting was allowing them a comfortable life out here; he wanted it to continue – at least for the time being.

He took a deep breath and then smiled at Susan, causing her own smile to slip a little. Fine, he said, but I want you to accompany me.

To her credit Susan didn’t object, but he could tell she was less than pleased by the tightening of her jaw.

Chapter 2

Seven in the morning came all to early for Aaron’s tastes. He woke up with a splitting headache and decided that perhaps scotch was only the nectar of the gods if taken in small doses.

He climbed wearily from bed and stretched his head side-to-side. His head ached but it wouldn’t for long. He assumed that was one of the benefits of his particular gift; his body seemed to heal quickly. He expected to feel fine by the time he was done with his shower.

He stood and raised his bed upward, where it tucked into the wall. As captain of the Long Shot, his room was bigger than the rest. The room was roughly ten feet wide by twelve feet long. The double bed folded up into the wall to save space and a small table sat opposite the bed in the corner; both the table and the two small chairs were locked down to the floor. Two floor-to-ceiling lockers and a doublewide closet were in the corner. At the far end of the room was a small lavatory.

It was to the bathroom that he headed now. He would have loved to stand under the hot water for an hour, but he was short on time, so he was in and out in five minutes.

He dressed quickly, putting on clothes that were clean and nice but not too nice. Out here on the Rim some people tended to mistrust a person who dressed too nicely. The last thing he did before leaving his room, was to strap the Horace on his hip. As an added precaution, he also slipped one of his smaller Oliver Model 3’s into a small holster on his left ankle. It wasn’t that he was expecting trouble exactly, but trouble seemed to have a way of finding him. Besides, he believed whole-heartedly in the saying, Prepare for the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

Leaving his room, Aaron walked quickly to the main hallway and then descended from B deck where his quarters were located to C deck. The ship was divided into two pieces. The front half was the crew quarters and living area, as well as the bridge. The rear half of the ship was engineering and the cargo hold. Just to the rear of the kitchen were the storerooms and freezer. C deck was where the galley was located, and there was a most wonderful smell emanating from the kitchen.

The galley was actually broken down into two compartments. The ship’s kitchen was well-equipped but not fancy; it was intended to be functional. The ship could hold a rather large number of stores, and they currently had several months of preserved food on hand. They hadn’t been using much of the preserved food, as fresh food was so cheap on the Rim. On the other side of the kitchen towards the front of the ship was the mess hall. It wasn’t anything fancy; it, too, had been designed to be functional. The mess hall consisted of five small tables, each surrounded by a handful of chairs locked to the deck. There was a retractable wall between the kitchen and the mess hall that could be pulled back so that food could be served, but it wasn’t used much.

Entering the mess hall, Aaron noticed Susan and Adam sitting together at the table farthest from the door. Susan looked blurry-eyed and, for a moment, Aaron felt guilty about making her come along, but only for a moment. Her telepathic skills might come in handy.

Adam Campbell was the ship’s pilot. He was another of the former Commonwealth soldiers, having escaped with Aaron from the research facility. He was the youngest of the soldiers, but his ability at piloting was unmatched. Part of his tremendous piloting skills came from his gift. The experiments had given him unparalleled reflexes; they bordered on being precognitive. He was of average height, slim, and cocky as all hell. It was a trait that Aaron found was normal in pilots. Women tended to find him attractive, and that only intensified his self-assured attitude. Make no mistake, Aaron truly liked the young man, despite any annoying character flaws.

Good morning, Aaron called out as he walked up to their table.

No its not, Susan said darkly.

Adam laughed at Susan’s sour mood. I don’t think she’s awake yet, he said simply.

Why are you? Aaron asked.

I traded watches with Russell, Adam replied.

While there technically wasn’t any need for a watch while in port, Aaron liked to have one person remain on the ship and alert at all times.

What’s for breakfast? Aaron asked, looking down at the empty plate in front of Susan. Whatever it was it must be good, judging by the way she’d cleaned her plate.

Susan shrugged. Who knows? Some sort of bread with gravy. I highly recommend you try some.

That was one of the problems with being so many light-years from home. The food was all new to them; strange meats and vegetables. And with their visits to some of these planets so short, some times they didn’t even have a chance to find a food they liked before they were taking off again.

Aaron left their table, crossed the mess hall, and pushed into the kitchen. The wonderful smells intensified.

Two more of the crew worked in the kitchens, both of them were freed prisoners from the prison ship. The first was Yvette Smythe, although she preferred to be called Eve. She was in her late fifties, but looked younger. Her son had been a very successful criminal and for a long time his money had kept her looking young. Her face was as smooth as could be, although the lines on her neck and partly around the eyes betrayed her real age. Her son was the reason she had been arrested and placed on the prison ship. The Miram Union had killed her son and arrested her. She had asked to come along on the Long Shot as the ship’s steward. Basically, she kept the ship clean and cooked the meals. She also negotiated prices for replenishing their stores.

The second crewman, or perhaps crewwoman was more accurate, was Molly Jordan. Molly was young, having just turned seventeen a month ago. She’d also been on the prison ship. Young and brash, she’d posted some anti-government messages and that wasn’t something the Miram Union allowed. Her family was killed and she was arrested. Since being freed, she and Eve were almost inseparable. It sort of made sense; they both had lost their entire families, so they’d clung to each other as surrogate family. Molly was assistant ship’s steward, which meant she basically assisted Eve with whatever the older woman was doing.

Molly smiled at Aaron as he walked through the door. Hi, Captain!

Aaron smiled back, it was impossible not to respond to the girl’s cheerfulness. Hi yourself. He stepped closer to the stove and looked into a large pot that Molly was busy stirring. Something smells good.

Eve picked up a plate from the shelf and held it while Molly placed a flat cake on the plate and then covered it in a thick white gravy.

Everything okay? Eve asked, giving Aaron a hard look.

Aaron grinned. Of all the crew, Eve was one of the sharpest; sometimes he thought she might have some telepathic tendencies of her own. I don’t know, he answered honestly. We have a contract for a cargo the day after tomorrow, but I’ve been asked to come to the headquarters of Milliners. He shrugged. I hope it’s nothing of much importance.

Eve’s eyebrows rose. But they’ve already awarded you the contract? she asked.

Yes, Aaron replied. I can only imagine there’s been a delay, or perhaps a problem with the cargo.

Eve grunted noncommittally. We’ll see, was all she said.

Upon leaving the kitchen, Aaron realized that another of the crew had arrived. Kyle Grayson stood at the small table talking to Adam and Susan. Kyle was the son of Charles Morgan; he was the reason that Aaron had the Long Shot to begin with. He was a black man, slim, and young – still in his twenties, He wore an archaic form of glasses, complaining that the eye treatments hadn’t worked for him.

He grinned as Aaron carried his heaping plate to the table next to where Susan and Adam sat, and then dug into the food. Smells good, he remarked, looking at the plate.

Tastes even better than it smells, Aaron said between mouthfuls. He paused with a spoonful halfway to his mouth. Say, what are you doing up this early?

Headed over to a couple of the outfitters. I’ve managed to find a few parts that I can use on those old bots. I’ve got a couple more of them working, but I’ve still got several to go.

Aaron nodded his head once and then tucked back into the food. The bots that Kyle mentioned were from an outfitters shop on Bathia. They had smuggled the business owner’s family offworld, and he’d given them free access to anything and everything in his store. Needless to say, Aaron’s crew had cleaned the place out. They found much of the merchandise useful; numerous robots, tools, and even some transports. Much of the stuff had been in rough shape, but Kyle and Terry had spent hours fixing it all up.

That reminds me, Susan said, looking up from where she’d been studying the table. We still have some extra tools and the like. Why don’t you take it with you and see if you can get a fair price?

Sounds good, Kyle answered. He grinned at them. Maybe I can get the parts I want for free.

Susan and Aaron left the ship an hour later with plenty of time to get to Milliners Shipping. It wasn’t far and they still had half an hour to get there. They both wore jackets, as it was cold in the early morning chill of winter.

There was plenty of humans and aliens about even at this early hour. That was one thing that was pretty